


Revelation

by JadeJem



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Badass, F/M, Fluff, LadyNoir - Freeform, Love, Poor Adrien, Reveal, Reveal Fic, Ship, adrienette - Freeform, love square, marinette is cool, much wow, ships everywhere, wow another reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeJem/pseuds/JadeJem
Summary: In which Marinette can't stop throwing people, and Adrien is just a muffin with a taste for small, badass girls with inhuman strength.





	Revelation

Marinette has been called many things before in her life. Smart, sweet, funny, clumsy (especially clumsy), relatable, polite, badass, etc. Words like ‘graceful’ and ‘agile’ have never exactly been associated with her civilian identity until recently.

Oh, where to begin?

It had started with an invisible akuma…

“Chat!” Ladybug shouts, landing swiftly and dodging a kick to her head. “Pin him down!”

“Trying, My Lady!” Chat responds, grunting and throwing the invisible villain against the brick wall of a nearby building. “Didn’t we already deal with an invisible akuma?”

“Don’t remind me!” Ladybug takes a vantage point in the air via yo-yo, searching for any disturbances to notify her where the invisible akuma might be at the moment. Only when she feels breath on the back of her neck does she jump violently, scream bloody murder, and grab the arm of the akuma, yanking it swiftly over her shoulder.

The invisible figure goes flying down, down, down.

_Crack!_

Ladybug stares, eyes wide, as an akuma comes fluttering into the air. Chat blinks up at her, and she shakes out of her stupor long enough to cleanse the nasty bug and toss her lucky charm of glue into the air.

Ladybugs swell around the city, and Ladybug leaps down from her perch on the lamppost numbly, slowly turning to face the akuma victim.

The teenage boy is healthy and whole, much to Ladybug’s relief. His expression is confused as he looks from Ladybug to Chat Noir. “What just…?”

“Pound it!” the superduo chimes simultaneously, exchanging grins. Their jewelry beeps, and with final parting remarks, the two take off in opposite directions.

Seemingly harmless, right?

Apparently not.

The next day at school starts off innocently enough. Marinette’s simply opening her locker and rummaging around for her History textbook.

Someone grabs her by the shoulder, and Marinette shrieks before grabbing their elbow, pulling them flush against her chest, and pressing their arm in a twisted angle higher up the arch of their back.

Kim whimpers. “What the hell, Mari?”

Marinette abruptly lets go, blinking. Her mood plummets, and she immediately begins apologizing, trying hard not to flush under the stares of all of her classmates. “Kim! I-I am  _so_  sorry! I didn’t know it was you, and—”

“Who did you think it was?” Kim groans, holding his elbow and looking down at her as if she’s crazy. “When did you get so strong?”

Luckily, Marinette is saved by the bell, and with a final apology, she scampers off, Alya hot on her tail with a myriad of questions.

However lucky Marinette has been since receiving the Ladybug Miraculous, no amount of good fortune can predict her spotty behavior.

Only a couple of days later, Marinette is pinning Nino against the wall for jumping out at her.

“Ouch,” he says flatly, his cheek pressed against the stone slab and voice slightly muffled.

Marinette jumps away, relinquishing her grip on him. “Nino! Don’t scare me like that!”

He rubs his arm. “What’s been up with you lately, ‘Nette?”

“Nothing,” Marinette answers quickly, her gaze darting away from him and focussing on something across the courtyard.

“Really?” Nino queries skeptically, sounding unconvinced as he raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ve tackled three people today.”

“They snuck up on me!” Marinette defends, looking at him with false incredulity. Oh, she  _knows_ it’s bad. It’s almost like she can’t help but let her defensive reaction twitch to life when something unexpected happens.

“Kagami said ‘hi,’” Nino deadpans, now tapping his foot. “Rose wanted to borrow a  _pencil_.”

Marinette opens her mouth to object before snapping it shut.

“Ivan didn’t even do anything!”

“He breathed down my neck!” Marinette fumes, embarrassed beyond belief. It’s like there’s no off button! If she can’t see them, she takes them down!

Nino blinks at her with a ridiculously confused expression. “So you  _threw_ him?”

Marinette whimpers and slides down the pillar behind her. “I didn’t mean to.”

Nino chuckles and slides down next to her. “I didn’t even know you  _could_ throw someone. You’re not exactly all that big or buff.” He pokes her in the side, and Marinette cringes into a laugh.

“I haven’t really told anyone, but I’ve been working out more lately,” Marinette semi-lies, smiling nervously at Nino.

He seems surprised at this announcement, for he blinks and shrugs. “I assumed you were doing something, but I thought steroids was more likely.”

Marinette punches Nino’s shoulder, and he laughs at her expression. “Kidding, kidding!” He sobers before his gaze turns distant. “Actually, Adrien mentioned working out a lot more recently, too.” His expression turns sly. “You wouldn’t happen to have a workout buddy, now would you?”

The question has Marinette’s cheeks heating rapidly. Of course she’s noticed Adrien’s form slowly morph from skinny and lanky to well-built and lean. His arms are now carved rather nicely, his flannel hugging his muscle in all of the right places. His shoulders have broadened, and his back has garnered some rather obvious shape.

She  _wishes_  that Adrien would be her workout partner!

In response to Nino’s question, she shakes her head in embarrassment. “Nope. Been at it by myself. Adrien’s  _way_  too cool to work out with me!”

Nino rolls his eyes. “Please. Adrien would be thrilled to work out with you! Especially after the display you’ve been putting on for the past couple of days.” He chuckles conspiratorially. “I think he’s been low-key turned on.” He re-adjusts his cap and winks at Marinette.

Marinette chokes on her tongue.

The mere of idea of Adrien being even  _slightly_  aroused by her ‘performances’ has her squirming in place, heat pooling into her cheeks and pulsing through the rest of her body. It’s suddenly much too hot, and Marinette finds herself pressing her back further against the wall.

“Yeah,” she manages, laughing nervously, “I don’t know about that.”

Nino’s eyes spark mischievously. “Are you excited for the new PE unit?”

Marinette frowns, her whole form relaxing. “What new unit?”

“We’re transitioning from Fencing to Self Defense,” Nino replies, bringing out his cellphone and showing her the unit laid out for them on the school’s website.

Lo and behold, there is a new unit all about Self Defense.

“Fantastic,” Marinette mutters sarcastically, massaging her temple with a small groan.

“Hey, look on the brightside.” Nino places a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Now you have a real excuse to throw people.”

Marinette sends him the flattest, most unamused look she can manage. “You, Nino Lahiffe, are officially the worst.”

Nino howls with laughter, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Marinette sits there, arms crossed and expression blank as her friend rolls over and dies.

“Real mature,” she calls to him over the ruckus he’s making. “I didn’t know we were still in third grade!”

“Who’s in third grade?”

At the new voice, Marinette glances up to find Adrien looking from Nino to Marinette, his expression curious. Nino’s comment from a few minutes prior comes rushing back to her, and Marinette flushes.

“Uh—,” she starts, willing herself to not swallow her tongue, “Nino. He’s… he’s an idiot.”

“Am—not!” Nino gasps, still mid-hilarity.

“He’s making fun of me for throwing people,” Marinette huffs, jabbing Nino in the side.

“Ow!” he exclaims sharply, sobering almost immediately. “Rude!”

Marinette pokes her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to Adrien.

He looks sheepish and a bit… flustered. “Yeah, ah—you kinda have been throwing people a bit lately—not that there’s wrong anything that with! I-I mean anything wrong with that!”

Marinette blinks very slowly.

_Have I crash-landed myself in an alternate universe where Adrien acts exactly like me and I act exactly like him?_

Well, if that’s the case, Marinette knows Adrien’s part like the back of her hand.

Her jitters calm relatively fast as she tries to impersonate Adrien (as hilariously horrible as that sounds). “Yeah, I guess I’ve been a little on edge.” She shrugs nonchalantly, smirking as Nino’s jaw drops in the corner of her eye. “I’ve been working out quite a bit recently for self defense purposes.” She makes an attempt at a disarming smile. “Although I’m probably not as strong as you are.”

_Nailed it._

Adrien’s knees visibly buckle.

 _Oooh, maybe it worked a little too well,_ Marinette thinks, internally cringing.  _I’m too good at being Adrien._

“Ah, I don’t know about that! You—you’re kind of amazing,” Adrien stammers, the words sounding so terribly uncharacteristic coming from his mouth in Marinette’s usual stuttering manner.

Marinette smiles easily, way too understanding of Adrien’s befuddled state. She gathers every bit of courage she has in herself before suggesting, “I wouldn’t mind having a workout buddy. Maybe we could spar some time?”

Adrien is saved from responding when Nino tosses an arm around his shoulder. “Adrien would love that, Mari,” he says, winking at her and mouthing, ‘Told you.’

Adrien nods along to what Nino is saying, expression embarrassed and cheeks red.

“Okay,” Marinette chimes awkwardly, pointing behind herself, “I’m going to catch up with Alya. See you guys later?”

Nino salutes her, and Adrien merely nods numbly, still looking much too flustered to really be Adrien.

_The only time I’ve seen him anything close to flustered is around Ladybug, and that’s because she’s a superhero!_

This thought is the one that haunts her as she searches the vicinity for Alya. They only have another three minutes of passing time before Physics starts.

“Alya’s probably waiting for me in the classroom,” Marinette murmurs to herself, making her way up the stairs with a small skip in her step.

Her theory is proven right when she walks in to find Alya on her phone at their usual lab station. She waves Marinette over, immediately pulling her into a story about moods in relation to ladybugs and black cats.

The only thing Marinette can focus on for the remainder of the day is Adrien and the dreaded PE class to come the following day. But mostly Adrien.

*** * ***

City lights litter the Parisian skyline, dimming the stars hanging high overhead in the black of night. The Eiffel Tower is blanketed in golden light, and Ladybug leans back on her hands to admire it.

How many times has she found herself in this exact place in the past year?

She sighs, her head lulling forward. Her chin makes contact with her chest, and she stares at the suit clinging to her form. As exposing as it may be, it’s strangely comfortable. It offers her a sense of… protection. It makes her feel safe.

She hears him before she sees him, and she props herself up on her elbows, so she can lean back to look at him.

He grins at her, his cat-like eyes sparking in the moonlight. “Evening, My Lady.” His voice lacks the usual excitement it often holds, instead coming off as a more calm joy.

“Chat Noir.” She nods in acknowledgement. “What brings you out?”

He crouches down and sits next to her, and Ladybug pushes herself onto her hands and faces him.

“An internal dilemma,” he admits, his eyes dancing away from her own before quickly glancing back. “You?”

“Something like that.”

Chat snorts, his eyes glittering mischievously. “No details for the poor cat?”

Ladybug smiles lazily. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chat sags. “That’s not an answer.”

The bluenette chuckles and decides to humor him. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it has something to do with the boy I like.”

Chat seems to stiffen at this. Out of respect, Ladybug doesn’t look at him. Guilt swells in her chest, and she feels a rush of regret at having even mentioned her crush.

Finally, Chat asks, “What happened?”

Ladybug hesitates. “No personal details, remember?”

Her partner rolls his eyes before looking at her. “Really? You’re gonna pull that one on me? Come on, I can handle it.”

Again, Ladybug hesitates. It’s not that she doesn’t think he can handle it, it’s rather that she doesn’t want him to have to. He doesn’t need to be her romantic counselor; especially when he feels the way he does about her.

“C’mon, LB. I’m your BSF.”

Ladybug raises an eyebrow in amusement. “My BSF?”

“Your best super friend,” Chat reiterates, rolling his eyes as if the slang should be as common as ‘OMG’ is in English. His expression softens, and he smiles gently, though it seems more sad than anything else. Ladybug straightens, recognizing this expression.

_The face he makes when he’s serious about his emotions._

The face he had made when telling Marinette about his feelings for Ladybug.

She swallows heavily.

“You can trust me,” Chat insists quietly, hurt barely touching his eyes as he reaches for her hand with a compassionate smile to mask his rawer one.

“Oh, I know!” Ladybug assures him quickly, sitting up fully and resting both of her hands on his. “I just don’t want to, ah—,” she cuts herself off, searching for the right wording.

Chat’s smile morphs once more, and though this one appears sweet, it seems unnatural; almost… practiced. “I get it, but I can’t let my feelings get in the way of our friendship. Your friendship is what matters most to me, Ladybug. I care about you and what goes on in your life.”

Ladybug’s heart pitters unnaturally in her chest, and she struggles to keep her breathing under wraps.

Eventually, she manages a smile. “Thanks, Chat.”

He nods. “Of course. Now, tell the big bad cat what’s wrong.”

She sends him a look before sighing and refocusing her sights on the city. “You remember Invisible Menace?”

He chuckles. “Hard not to.”

Ladybug jabs him in the side.  _“Anyway,_  he kind of… scared the living shit out of me.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut it, cat. This particular fright has had me on edge lately,” Ladybug reasons carefully (albeit, a bit sharply), trying to keep it as vague as possible.

Chat cocks his head curiously. “On edge as in shrieking when people sneak up on you, or on edge as in accidentally punching people?”

Ladybug winces. “Let’s go with something similar to the second one.”

Chat blinks in bewilderment. “What, are you pulling a knife on classmates or something?”

“What?! No!” Ladybug cries out, completely aghast. “You think I keep a knife in the back pocket of my cutesy pink jeans? Imagine the headlines on that one! ‘Tiny girl discovered to be Ladybug, High School Menace, pulls knife out of back pocket and stabs unsuspecting classmate.’” Ladybug snorts at the mere idea of the whole ordeal.

Chat looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Your cutesy pink jeans? My Lady, I pinned you as more of a lover of red.”

_Oops._

Ladybug blushes. “Well, I—no, pink is my favorite color. And yes, my cutesy pink jeans.”

Chat snickers. “You, My Lady, are adorable.”

“No I am not!” Ladybug fumes, whirling on him indignantly. “They’re just jeans!”

“But they’re cutesy pink jeans on  _you_ ,” he reiterates, eyes glimmering with barely-contained mirth as his lips curl into a ridiculously attractive smile.

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, LB—_

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ladybug huffs, trying very hard to fight the blush consuming her cheeks. Her heart is pounding rapidly—with embarrassment, she tells herself.

“Nothing, nothing,” Chat says mysteriously, though the grin he’s sporting shows no signs of leaving any time soon. “You actually kind of remind me of someone.”

At this, Ladybug’s interest is peaked. “Really?” she queries, half playful and half serious.

“Mhm,” Chat hums, nodding as his gaze suddenly turns distant and a frown curves his brow. “She’s been acting odd lately.”

“Gee, thanks, Chat. I love being compared to some random, odd girl from your civilian life,” Ladybug drawls sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Chat chuckles. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s pretty much as kick-ass as you are.”

“No one can be as kick-ass as me,” Ladybug states curtly, the statement dripping in fake haughtiness that sounds almost too amused to be real.

“I don’t know, Bugaboo. This girl might have you beat. She really is something else.”

Ladybug glances at Chat to see him staring out across the city. His posture is relaxed, but there’s something alit in his eyes. The expression he bears is fond; a smile curving his lips as his eyelids droop lazily.

She blinks stupidly at her partner. “And… she’s your…?”

“Friend,” Chat responds good-naturedly, his attention snapping back to her. “A very good friend. Although…” He suddenly looks hesitant, and a blush dusts his cheeks. “Although she’s been making me feel funny recently.”

Ladybug purses her lips. It’s clear as day! He obviously has feelings for this girl. Is Ladybug the one standing between Chat and his happiness with this girl? Is she the reason he won’t admit his feelings for the girl? Is his lack of a girlfriend _her_ fault?

_Or maybe he doesn’t realize that he has a crush on her…_

“Funny how?” Ladybug finally manages, struggling not to ask Chat any of the questions floating around the inside of her head.

Chat merely shrugs. “It’s like I’ve swallowed my tongue and turned my insides to mush; she makes my chest hurt.” He rubs said area just over his heart to prove his point, frowning. “I feel… warm around her.” He cringes. “That sounds weird.”

“I don’t think so,” Ladybug says pointedly. “I think you should try spending more time around her and get to the bottom of these weird feelings you get around her.”

Chat perks up. “You think she’d want to hang out with me?”

“I don’t see why not.” Ladybug chuckles, feeling the need to coo at his obliviousness.

Part of her wants to ignore the envy creeping up behind her at the possibility of Chat moving on from her, and part of her wants to let herself burn in the feeling and keep him away from this girl that’s clearly caught his attention.

She swallows, disgusted with herself. She’s made her choice; it’s time for her to reap what she’s sewn and try to be the best friend Chat deserves. She can’t desire his affection if she knows she won’t return it as long as she has feelings for Adrien. She simply cannot wrong her sweet, smart, silly partner like that. He deserves happiness above all else.

Chat looks lost in his thoughts, Ladybug’s internal plight another world away from his. She almost laughs at herself and all of the chances she’s had but never taken. It’s funny how she’s allowed herself to fall into this state after she’d discovered Chat’s feelings for her. Unrequited love is not meant to last.

Even so, the thought of her moving on from Adrien pains her above all else.

She smiles and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Everything will work out how it’s supposed to, Chat. Try not to worry yourself or stress over this, okay?”

Chat looks at her then, and the affection in his eyes nearly sends Ladybug careening off of the side of the building. Lord, that is one weighty stare! She can feel the heat spreading over every inch of her body as she damn-near vibrates in place. How had she not noticed that look before he had confessed his feelings for her to Marinette (AKA her)?

“Thanks, M’Lady,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles crookedly at her.

Her hand drops from his shoulder, and she does her best to mask her feelings with a smile that hopefully mirrors his own. “Of course, Chaton. What are superhero best friend slash partners for?”

He chuckles at her before pushing himself to his feet and offering her his hand. “As wonderful as this has been, this cat has a curfew that needs no further breaching.” She accepts his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. He lowers at the waist and presses his lips to her knuckles in a chaste kiss. “Good night, Ladybug.”

His eyes sparkle in the moonlight when he glances up at her through his blond lashes, and Ladybug’s breath catches. “Good night, Chat Noir.”

And just like that, he vanishes into the intricately beautiful dark of the Parisian night.

*** * ***

If Marinette could use one word to describe her day thus far, it would be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious; the word you say when you have no freakin’ idea what else to say. It’s the one truly english phrase she can quote day in and day out because it feels like an achievement to pronounce it; especially with how difficult english is in general.

Oh, has everyone been asking her about her supposed ‘excitement’ for the self defense section of their Physical Education class. What did they expect her to say? ‘Yes, I’m thrilled to pin you to the ground with your own leg’? Um,  _no._ The answer is no. She is most certainly  _not_ thrilled, thank you very much.

Her leg continues bouncing under the table, and the Physics lesson is completely lost on her. Marinette idly twiddles her pencil, trying her hardest to tune into the lesson and write  _something_ on the blank sheet in her notebook. She steals a glance at Alya’s progress to see her page brimming with words and equations.

Just fantastic.

Marinette accepts her fate and stops trying to pay attention; she’ll have to ask Alya for her notes to copy during lunch or after school.

Not much time passes before the bell rings. The chimes sound like doom to Marinette’s ears, and she groans and allows her forehead to hit the table below her. The shuffle and chatter of her classmates echoes around the room as everybody stands to leave for their next period, and Marinette finds herself seriously considering going to the nurse’s office and claiming that she had thrown up in the girl’s bathroom because of food poisoning.

“Mari?”

Marinette doesn’t move.

“Is she okay?”

The bluenette’s muffled “no” isn’t enough of a sign to make her friends leave her alone, as she can still feel them gathered around her.

“Is this about PE?”

Marinette groans uncharacteristically loud before forcing herself to sit upright. From the front of the room, Miss Mendeleiev shoots her a scowl before fixing her spectacles.

Alya looks perplexed, her arms crossed over her chest and one of her hips cocked. “We’re gonna be late,” she states unhelpfully, looking both sorry for Marinette and amused at the same time.

Nino chuckles from Marinette’s other side, and she glares at him before her gaze falls on Adrien. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. When he catches her staring, however, he keeps their eye contact. His cheeks stain a gentle pink, and he scratches the back of his head.

“Don’t worry, Marinette,” he finally says, his arm dropping to the side and leaving his usually perfect hair slightly disheveled. “I’m sure it’ll all be okay—as long as you don’t chuck anyone across the room.”

Marinette grimaces, though she feels slightly better now that Adrien is willing to actually talk to her again. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies tiredly, only slightly sarcastic. She resigns to standing up and throwing her bag over her shoulder before marching past Alya. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Alya’s and Nino’s shared snickers follow her out of the dreadful science classroom and down the hall. The only comfort Marinette holds is that she hasn’t made the mistake of punching anybody out—yet. Lord knows why she’s been so jumpy lately; she doesn’t know what she’d do if she accidentally knocked Adrien (or anyone else, for that matter) out with an uppercut or a roundhouse kick to the face.

The girl’s locker room is as dingy as ever when Marinette pushes the door open and walks through the cramped space. The whispers of her female classmates stop upon her entrance, and Marinette flushes in embarrassment. They’ve obviously been talking about her, but she knows better than to assume they said anything mean or harmful—the class has Chloé and (occasionally) Sabrina for that.

Marinette changes in uncharacteristic silence, ignoring the concerned looks Alya sends her way. She ends up being the last one in the locker room (as she had ushered Alya to leave with Rose and Juleka), and Marinette finds herself taking deep breaths in front of the sink mirror.

“How hard is it not to throw someone?” she asks her reflection quietly, a self-deprecating laugh escaping her mouth. She sits up and brushes herself off, tightens her twintails, and makes her way towards the gym entrance.

_You’ve got this, Dupain-Cheng._

Everyone is already in the gym and chattering away in small cliques. Marinette does her best to act discreet, but she manages to catch everyone’s attention the moment she lets the door slam behind her. She cringes, waving her apologies with a nervous laugh as she tries her best to be casual.

It’s actually a rather trying task to act normal when every person in the room has their eyes glued to you like you’re the star of a musical about to burst out in song about how you just can’t wait to be king—Lion King reference intended.

Luckily, the instructor, Monsieur D’Argencourt, comes strolling into the room with his rather snooty air of elegance. He’s dressed in something akin to fencing gear but not quite the uniform itself, and as Marinette watches him glance down at his clipboard before he addresses the class, she can feel her stomach fall out from under her.

Maybe she really should have faked being sick—is there such a thing as an allergy to PE class?

“Good early afternoon, students,” Monsieur D’Argencourt booms, his curly mustache bouncing comically as he talks. “As many of you know from the change in schedule, we will be working on self-defense for the rest of the semester.”

Marinette’s jaw drops.

The rest of the semester? As in, until the end of the school year?!

The room spins around Marinette as she stumbles, knocking into Alya’s shoulder. The ombré supports her body weight, surprise scrawled across her expression. “Marinette?”

What if Marinette accidentally hurts someone? What if she lands someone in the hospital? Some superhero she’d be! Maybe she should just resign now and curl up in a ball of shame before she can seriously injure anyone. She’d be better off hiding out in the broom closet than out here making a complete fool of herself!

“…and I would like everyone to find a partner about their height and weight. If you have any prior sparring experience, please come see me now.”

The whole class turns and stares at Marinette, which naturally draws Monsieur D’Argencourt’s attention to her. “Marinette? Do you have any real sparring experience?”

_More than you do._

“Err—kind of?”

Someone snorts, and the class dissolves into giggles. Marinette’s ears are hot when Monsieur D’Argencourt looks at her after scaling the room with his watchful eyes.

“Kind of?” he repeats skeptically, a slight sneer curling his lips. “It’s a simple yes or no question, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette huffs, put off by her instructor’s slight attitude. “Alright, then. Yes, I  _do_  have real sparring experience.”

He looks unconvinced as he cocks an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Really?”

The judgement in his tone has Marinette’s temper flaring slightly. “Yes,  _really_. Why?”

He shrugs, though it’s not honest in the sense that he isn’t sure. “I don’t suppose you would like to show the class your skills, then, would you?”

The class ‘ooh’s, and small murmurs begin. Monsieur D’Argencourt smirks and urges Marinette forward with his pointer finger.

Marinette swallows her nerves and steps towards him and onto the gym mat laid out on the floor. She cracks her knuckles and stretches her arms before crossing them, mirroring her instructor’s smug stance sans the cocky smirk.

Oh, Marinette doesn’t need to appear cocky when she already knows who’s going to be winning this particular spar.

“Do you want to use gear, dear?” he queries, though it sounds more condescending than anything else.

Marinette musters a falsely sweet smile. “I don’t need gear.”  _Only the occasional Miraculous._

Her classmates ‘ooh’ again, and this time, it’s Marinette who smirks, resting her hands comfortably on her hips.

“No weapons outside of your hands,” Monsieur D’Argencourt states, crouching into a ready stance.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Marinette replies boldly, the burst of her sudden confidence rewarding her with the beginnings of chants sounding like her name.

At this, her instructor frowns. “Ready? Free!” He lunges at her with an immediate kick to the side, aiming to both end this quickly and go easy on her—he must not think she’s a worthy opponent!

Marinette blocks his foot and forces him to the left, causing him to stumble harshly. He’s clearly surprised, for he’s delayed when trying to block the kick she sends at the back of his knee. Marinette’s instructor falls to the mat before bouncing back up, now looking angry.

_Glad to know he won’t be underestimating me again._

Marinette’s classmates chant her name louder and louder by the second as Marinette sends blow after blow after strikingly difficult (yet not difficult at all) blow Monsieur D’Argencourt’s way.

By the time he’s holding his hands up in a ‘stop’ motion, a collection of black and purple bruises line the junctions and curves of his body. He pants, sweat dotting his forehead and sliding down the sides of his face.

When he finally gets to his feet, he bows respectively. “You are much more talented than I had given you credit for. Thank you for a good workout.”

Marinette smiles awkwardly, noting the fact that she’s not out of breath at _all,_  and she’s barely broken a sweat. She bows in return out of respect anyway, humming in acknowledgement.

Monsieur D’Argencourt turns to the spectators and motions to Marinette. “Can we all give Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng a round of applause for her flawless display?”

A blush settles across the apples of Marinette’s cheeks as her class roars with applause and cheers, all starry-eyed. Okay, so she may have gone a bit overboard… but, man, does she hate being underestimated.

“That was so awesome!”

“Marry me!”

“Marinette! Do you want to be my partner?”

“You’ve got to teach me some of those sick moves, ‘Nette!”

The entirety of the class (minus Chloé and Sabrina, of course) swarms Marinette, singing her praises and embarrassing the living crap out of her. It’s only when Monsieur D’Argencourt clears his throat and demands everybody’s attention that Marinette’s classmates back away and become silent once more.

“As I was saying before the demonstration,” Monsieur D’Argencourt says pointedly, eyeing the class with a raised eyebrow. “Sparring is no easy feat. While Mademoiselle Marinette made it look very easy, she’s surely had years of practice and training.”

Marinette purses her lips, swallowing her disagreement. She’s had about a year of superhero experience, but no real sparring practice. Then again, they were doing a freestyle spar, which can range from a flurry of random motions. This is only a PE self-defense course, after all.

Half of the class glances between Monsieur D’Argencourt and Marinette curiously, clearly not believing that Marinette has had years of self-defense training. In middle school, she couldn’t block a punch to save her life.

“You will want to choose a partner around your height and size, excluding Marinette. She will be with me… unless there is someone else here who may be able to match her level of skill?” He eyes the class with a raised brow, and Marinette swallows her groan.

Just great! Now she’s made herself into a spectacle  _and_  is partner-less! Talk about a social pariah at its finest.

No one steps forward, and Monsieur D’Argencourt nods. “Alright, then. Partners, if you’d please.”

*** * ***

A couple of weeks fly by, an occasional akuma making an appearance. Marinette has found herself calmed into her norm and no longer tossing her classmates (or akuma, for that matter) around. Now she only uses her hand-to-hand combat knowledge in PE.

The unit itself hasn’t been so bad (it’s fun to watch inexperienced classmates try to claw at each other). Being Monsieur D’Argencourt’s partner, on the other hand… boring. He uses her for an example every single time, and every time they spar, he ends up sweaty and gross whilst Marinette is just plain  _bored._

Someone put her out of her misery and put forth a worthy opponent!

“Have you ever been so bored out of your mind, you’d willingly run laps around the track?” Marinette asks Alya, who’s engaged in a struggle for power with Kagami on a gym mat.

“Not—really,” Alya manages through clenched teeth, struggling against Kagami’s seemingly strong hold on her.

“Free,” Marinette orders, and Kagami and Alya fall away from one another, panting. If anything, Marinette has become less like a student and more like an assistant teacher. “The grab for the arm was good, Kagami, but Alya left her left side open. Next time try going for that, okay?”

Kagami nods studiously, drinking in Marinette’s every word. “What should I guard as my priority?”

“Always the face,” Marinette replies matter-of-factly. “One good punch to the face, and your life gets a whole lot harder—I assume!” she rushes to add, tagging on a nervous laugh to the end of her statement. “I’ve never been in a real fight before.” The lie leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and she swallows, backing away slowly. “Be back in five. Water.”

Marinette turns on her heel, sighing. She would really rather be anywhere else right about now—even Physics. Part of her is spurred to start seriously training in sparring (for Miraculous purposes), but where would she find a professional to teach and coach her? She could always ask Chat Noir to work with her, as his skill level in close quarters combat rivals her own (maybe exceeding it slightly), but when would they even have time to do such a thing? School is hard enough without the double-life that comes with a more than ‘part-time’ job. And it might be harder with their transformations having time limits; they’d probably get a good hour and a half of actual physical activity before they had to go.

A thought occurs to her as she bends to drink from the water fountain. Of course! Why hasn’t she thought of it before? Master Fu has been doing this way longer than she or Chat Noir have! Maybe she could drop by after school and ask him to consider training with—

“Hey, Marinette.”

Marinette chokes.

She begins hacking violently, gasping for air as she backs away from the water fountain. She keels over at the waist, gripping her chest and trying to clear the water from the wrong pipe. A hand begins patting her back, and she gives him a thumbs-up gratefully.

When she’s finally sobered, Marinette’s stands up straight and meets Adrien’s concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand slipping from her shoulder and instead scratching the back of his neck.

“Fine, yeah, sorry about that,” Marinette rambles, her cheeks heating as she waves her hand around nonchalantly. “At least I didn’t accidentally punch you, right?”

Adrien chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thank God for that. Not sure if I would have been able to take it.”

Marinette finds herself giggling, both embarrassed and slightly flattered. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t be shocked if you could.”

_No, he probably wouldn’t be able to take it._

Adrien doesn’t deny her statement, and Marinette feels her eyes narrowing competitively. “Who have you been sparring with?”

Adrien glances to the right, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Uh—Kim.”

Marinette’s expression flattens, and she cocks her hip, leaning her weight on it with a hand on her hip. “Kim is with Nino.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder, not even needing to look to know that the two aforementioned boys are basically rolling around on the floor, wrestling.

“Right, right,” Adrien hurries to say, eyes now anywhere but Marinette. “I was sparring with, er—Nathaniel earlier.”

Marinette crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “You mean the Nathaniel that’s been sitting on his mat talking to Juleka this whole class period?”

The look on Adrien’s face is fleeting, but Marinette ultimately catches the  _‘damn, she’s sharp’_  expression passing over his features.

“Have you even been sparring?” Marinette queries innocently, pretending to be slightly aghast. “Adrien Agreste not doing an assignment? Why, I nev—”

“Hush, okay,” Adrien urges her quietly, the hints of a smile curling his lips as his pointer finger comes up and lightly presses against her lips. He gently grabs her shoulder and pulls her towards him while leaning over. He cups a hand over his mouth and whispers, “Truth is, I  _am_  experienced in sparring.” His warm breath fans Marinette’s exposed neck, and she ultimately begins to overheat at the searing contact of his hand on her bare shoulder.

The moment he pulls away, Marinette’s eyes widen as she processes what he’s said. She whirls on him, an accusation resting on the tip of her tongue. “You’ve been forcing me to be stuck with the teacher while you play hooky with your friends this whole time?!”

Adrien’s face screws up into a sour scowl. “I don’t want to accidentally knock you out!”

“Ohoho!” Marinette laughs sarcastically. “ _You’re_  worried about  _me?_  Me? Adrien, I would advise you not to underestimate me.” Her tone is still slightly teasing as she chides him, a smile breaching her lips.

Adrien raises an eyebrow, his form towering over hers as he puts his hands on his hips. “And I would advise you not to underestimate  _me_ , Marinette. I do strike quite the figure.” He grins cockily and evens mocks a flex.

Marinette scoffs, rolling her eyes and rocking back on her knees. “You’re all talk.”

“I could say the same to you,” he hums, smiling smugly as he leans towards her. “In fact, I think your bark is about three times bigger than your bite.”

Marinette crosses her arms over her chest, shrugging with a coy smile. “More like the other way around. I’d get you down in the first thirty seconds without breaking a sweat.”

“Quite confident, are we?”

“And for a  _fantastic_  reason.”

“It sounds like you want to get beat, Mari.”

“Not as bad as you do.”

“How kinky of you.”

“I’m not the one who suggested it first.”

The bell rings, cutting their banter short. Marinette gives him a sarcastic wave, even going so far as to blow him a mock kiss. “If you want to lose, just let me know!”

Adrien grins, catching the kiss mid-air and putting it in his pocket. “Same to you!”

She scoffs loudly before pushing her way through the girl’s locker room door. She stomps all the way over to her locker, slams the door open with a huff of indignation, and begins yanking her clothes off.

Marinette has decided: come next class period, she is going to march up to Monsieur D’Argencourt and demand he make Adrien participate! It’s not fair that he’s gotten a free ticket out of the unit while she’s been stuck playing teacher’s assistant. It might also be fun to pop that big bubble of an ego when she takes him out—

A blush rises to her cheeks. Had he been flirting with her before the bell rang?

The logical side of her that knows Adrien has friendzoned her quickly denies the idea, hoping to stop Marinette’s thoughts from running rampant, but the more ‘creative’ side of her is screaming incoherently and jumping up and down like a wackadoo.

She had full-on bantered with him! Marinette has never before seen this side of Adrien Agreste, and man, would she not mind seeing some more! Screw perfect model, this confident, mischievous boy with a killer smirk is one she can get used to in a matter of _seconds._

Marinette nearly melts on the spot. Who knew Adrien could have such a wild side?

*** * ***

“Why now of all the times?” Marinette mutters grumpily as she rounds another corner, eyes scanning the halls for any passing students.

“Marinette! We don’t have time for this! Just find a place to transform!” Tikki says loudly, zipping out of her hiding place in Marinette’s bag to float along with Marinette’s fast pace.

“I know, I know,” she replies, “I was just excited about spending study hall with Adrien.” An explosion rocks the building, and Marinette flinches. “Of all of the things to be akumatized into, why a baker throwing exploding croissants?”

Marinette throws open the art closet and ducks in, making sure to lock it behind her. She feels the wall for a light switch and finds herself disappointed when she can’t find one.

“Guess this’ll have to do.”

**“Tikki, spots on!”**

Marinette’s transformation swells around her, and for a moment, she’s able to see in the dark as the flashes of her pink sparkles illuminate the room.

To say that seeing the wide-eyed expression of one of her close friends is startling is officially the understatement of the century.

Ladybug absolutely  _shrieks._

His own face contorts into one of terror, and he yells back at her. They stand there for a moment, screaming at each other before Ladybug steps forwards and abruptly covers his mouth.

“Shh! Someone might hear us,” she whispers, eyes barely able to see the rims of his glasses even though she’s now squatting to his level on the floor.

He pushes her hand away from his mouth, pupils small with astonishment. “Marinette?”

“No, Nino, it’s Santa Claus,” Ladybug replies sarcastically, rolling her eyes and pulling him to his feet.

Nino makes a face at her before he steps back. His silhouette dusts his shirtfront off before standing straight once more. “I… I don’t even want to know.”

Ladybug nods. “Good choice.” She turns and rests her hand on the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand.

“Hey, Marinette?”

She cranes her neck and blinks at him. “Yeah?”

His golden-brown eyes glitter in the light escaping through the cracks of the door as he says, “Be careful, yeah?”

Marinette smiles warmly, suddenly feeling much better about this horrible surprise—she needs to have a chat with Nino about everything later. She has never suspected Nino would be the first one to discover her identity (she’s always assumed that it would be Tom, Sabine, Alya, or even Chat Noir), but she finds herself calmed by his reaction. 

He isn’t having a panic attack anymore.

“Yeah,” she finally manages, her eyes stinging from the tears welling within them. “I will be.”

She leaves him to stand in the dark art closet as she takes off to pursue the angry baker akuma, wondering how Chat is going to feel if or when she tells him that one of her friends accidentally saw her transform.

It was an accident, of course (how could she have been so reckless?), but even she’s a bit upset with herself for letting it happen. Will he be mad at her? Accident or not, he’s been patiently waiting for her to be okay with an identity reveal (even after her countless attempts at explaining to him the dangers of exposing the identity of a superhero—herself and him very much so included).

Oh, well. She’ll just have to hope that he understands she made a dumb mistake that will most certainly  _not_  happen again.

Ladybug swings on to the scene to see Chat dodging a batch of croissants the akuma is pulling out of his smock.

“Missed me!” he calls tauntingly, sidestepping three croissants that coat the street with bits of chocolate filling before exploding. He jumps over another one and shrugs. “Whoops, missed me again. You’ll have to do a lot better than—”

A fat croissant smacks him in the face and blows up, sending him hurtling into a nearby building. His back makes contact with the brick, and the crack that resides in the clearing makes Ladybug cringe. After a moment, she giggles into her hand before clapping and calling out, “I don’t think he missed that time, Chat Noir!”

Chat comes stumbling out of the dust, hacking like crazy and batting away the microscopic debris floating through the air. “Thank you for that lovely observation, M’Lady,” he manages, sending her a shaky smile and a thumbs-up. “I am fine, in case you were curious.”

Ladybug shrugs, letting out a little, “Meh.” Chat sends her a flat look, and she grins as he comes to stand by her side. The heroine switches into a defensive position and turns her attention to the villain. “Alright, Croissant Boy, where are you hiding that pretty little akuma?”

The baker-themed akuma growls, his all-white eyes narrowing menacingly. “That’s Patisserie Destroyer to you, Bug.”

For a moment, Ladybug simply breaks the fourth wall and stares directly at the reader, expression flat. “Why am I not surprised?” It sounds more like a statement than a question, and Ladybug sighs in resignation before facing Hawk Moth’s latest villain once more.

“What’s the plan of action, Bugaboo?” Chat Noir queries awkwardly, looking from Ladybug to Patisserie Destroyer—cringe—with a forced smile. “Should I just destroy something?”

“Yes, Chat. Just spin the wheel and randomly destroy something,” Ladybug deadpans, motioning around them.

“Enough of this foolish talk!” the akuma shouts, the outline of a purple butterfly hovering over his eyes. “Give me your Miraculous!”

“Never,” Ladybug states defiantly. She falls into a sprint, charging straight at the villain. He begins pulling croissants out of his apron and chucking them at her. Dodging proves to be difficult, but Ladybug certainly manages it.

At the last second, however, she doesn’t expect another one to follow the first of a new stream, so she takes a croissant to the stomach and goes flying back a good 200 meters, skidding across the road as she goes.

“Ladybug!” Chat shouts from somewhere not too far from her landing point, sounding concerned.

“I’m fine!” she calls back, flipping onto her side and gracefully swooping into a competitive crouch. “It’s on now.”

The ache in her side is dull, but it throbs like a beating heart. Ladybug looks down at herself worriedly for a second.

_Tikki must have absorbed most of the blow._

The thought makes her nervous, and she can already feel herself starting to slip into a state of jumbled stress. Her paces are quick and level as she charges the akuma again, racing past Chat Noir. “Take the left!”

He does as much, and the two split off, each going for one side of the villain. He seems to have a bit of a harder time throwing exploding croissants at the same time in opposite directions, and Ladybug suddenly feels more at ease with the upperhand in her reach.

Patisserie Destroyer leaps into the air, and Ladybug collides into Chat Noir in a mess of yo-yo string and baton—a feat not uncommon amongst the two of them, as of late.

They groan before apologizing simultaneously and pulling apart, weapons returning to their sides. Ladybug shoves Chat Noir out of the way as a storm of croissants comes flying at them from above, sending the building beneath the heroes crumbling to the ground.

Ladybug’s yo-yo latches onto a lamppost, and she gets herself out of the way just in time. Violent coughs wrack her body as the dust blossoms through the air, and the heroine swings herself to the roof of a nearby building, searching the sky for Patisserie Destroyer.

When she doesn’t see him anywhere, she finds herself scouring the ground for her partner. “Chat Noir?” she calls out, but it’s less of a yell and more of a plea. “You okay?”

Her voice echoes in the silence of the clearing created by the collapse of the building. Everyone in the area had evacuated a little while ago, leaving Ladybug feeling alone in the fog of debris.

“Chat Noir?” she tries again, leaping down to the ground and approaching the wreck of a building. She stands just outside of the cloud of soot from the remainders of the fire the croissants had left behind.

Ladybug’s chest tightens with fear, and she finds herself gripping the front of her suit. Her heart rate quickens, and her eyes begin to sting and burn with unshed tears. “Chat Noir?” she croaks, her lower lip starting a small quiver as a sob rises in her throat.

The echo of her own voice being the only response pulls the sob from her hollowed throat, the sound heartbreaking even to her own ears. The word ‘professionalism’ rings in her mind, but she can’t bring herself to care. Screw that. How is anyone supposed to be professional in her position? Superhero or not, she’s still a living, breathing person with feelings.

Every moment of the following silence hurts more than the last, and the tears brimming her eyes finally spill over and glide down her flushed cheeks. Of course, she wipes them up quickly, her throat aching as another sob manages to escape her mouth.

_No, he can’t be gone. He just can’t be._

The pressure of the possibility weighs heavily on her. Chat Noir, gone? No. No. He just can’t be. He’s Chat Noir. He—he just— _no._

Ladybug’s hands shake terribly as she brings them up to cup her mouth. She positively trembles all over and begins to mentally cave in on herself. The freaking akuma could sweep in and steal her Miraculous, and she wouldn’t be able to honestly say that she noticed.

An explosion rocks the ground beneath Ladybug, but she barely pays it any mind. The next explosion is closer, the ground now rumbling and causing her knees to quake harder than they already are. How is she supposed to fight an akuma on live television like this?

Despite her internal plea, Patisserie Destroyer’s shadow darts over her figure from above, heading in the opposite direction—almost as if being chased.

“Ladybug! Where have you been? I thought you were on the other side of the building, so I was chasing the akuma that way.”

Ladybug whirls on her toes to see Chat Noir standing there, baton clutched in his clawed fingers as beads of sweat run down the sides of his soot-covered face. She gasps, and her partner’s expression pales as his eyes widen a fraction. “Ladybug? Wha—”

She crashes into him, knocking him off balance and cutting off his speech. He stumbles for a moment before swiftly regaining his stature and returning the hug. Ladybug buries her face into his shoulder and releases a shuddering breath, relieved to smell his faint mint scented conditioner.

_He’s okay. Of course he’s okay._

“My Lady, as much as I would love to address this, we need to stop the akuma from blowing any more buildings up.”

The heroine jumps away from him as if she’s just been scalded by hot water, making sure to hurriedly wipe up her silly tears before facing him once more. “Right, yeah,” she agrees, her voice wavering and cracking with remnants of emotion. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she’s zipping away, her cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment and shame. How could she think something had happened to him? He’s fast, reflexive, and strong! He’s every bit a superhero she is; if she can avoid being crushed by flying debris, surely he can, too.

Looking back on her overreaction now, Ladybug feels stupid and lame. Chat Noir is capable of taking care of himself. His first assumption was not that she had been crushed, but that Ladybug, the girl capable of doing as he does, was simply on the other side of the building—that she was fine.

And here she is, thinking he’s gone off and gotten himself killed by something so minor.

Ladybug grunts when she lands in front of her very own home. Surprisingly enough, it hasn’t been blown up like the boulangerie patisserie down the street was moments ago. She frowns in concern for her mother and makes her way towards the entrance.

The spotted hero presses her fingers against the glass door, and it opens with an ominous chime of the bell hanging over it. Display cases are shattered, the cash register has been uprooted and tossed across the room, and there are dents in the wall. The door into the kitchen appears to have been torn off, and fear curls in Ladybug’s chest.

Without thinking, she calls out, “Maman? Papa?”

The door behind her creaks open, and the bell tinkles once more, signaling Chat’s entrance. He comes to stand next to her, his expression horrified as he takes in the scene before him. Ladybug expects him to turn to her for guidance on what to do next, but he instead whispers, “Marinette” and rushes up the stairs leading into her living room.

Ladybug blinks before charging after him, being sure to keep her footsteps quiet.

Chat Noir has already made his way up to Marinette’s bedroom by the time Ladybug surfaces, and she bites down on her lip in dread when her mother and father are nowhere to be seen. Are they hiding in their room? A quick once-over of the place tells her no, and the look on Chat’s face as he pads down the stairs tells her they’re not in her room, either.

“We have to find them,” he states decisively, stalking past Ladybug to go back down into the boulangerie.

Ladybug follows him once more, stunned by his sudden mood change. “Obviously, but where would we find the Dupain-Cheng family? Why does Patisserie Destroyer have them?” She’s careful to leave her civilian form out of the direct line of questions. If they find her parents and not Marinette, no problems can be posed if she shows up shortly after the attack, claiming to have been elsewhere in hiding.

“No idea. With the other boulangeries, he just blew them up and left the people be. It might have something to do with this being the best boulangerie in all of Paris,” Chat explains as they emerge into the dying sunlight, eyes searching the skies overhead for the akuma. “My best guess for finding them would be to check other boulangeries and famous landmarks.”

Ladybug nods in agreement, reaching for her yo-yo and popping the middle dot on the front of it. An earpiece falls out, and Chat Noir gets out his own. They insert them into their ears, and Ladybug taps the piece. “Keep in touch,” she says before swinging towards the Arc de Triomphe.

The two rattle off to one another about locations for the next few minutes, moving quickly and swiftly across Paris’ landscape to find the akuma. Knowing Hawk Moth, he is probably fed up with the villain’s lack of effort in procuring their Miraculous, so drawing Patisserie Destroyer out shouldn’t be too much work for the duo to handle.

“Anything?” Ladybug queries after a stretch of silence, her eyes roving over the city from the highest point of the Eiffel Tower.

“Nothing,” Chat affirms, landing beside her. They share worried glances and lean over the railing in sync. “Did you cover everything?”

“No, Chat, I left a few things off the list,” Ladybug snaps, her nerves beginning to eat away at her patience. This is  _her_ family, for God’s sake!

“Don’t get short with me,” Chat quips back curtly, his temper flaring up as he points an accusing finger at her. “I’m just making sure. This is a family in danger, we’re talking about.”

“I know that, Chat,” Ladybug responds patiently, pursing her lips in slight annoyance. “Believe me: I checked everywhere.”

Chat groans and steps away from the bar, scrubbing his eyes. “Now what?”

Ladybug opens her mouth to respond before shutting it at the sound of a loud cackle. She exchanges a wide-eyed look with Chat Noir before running to the edge of the railing and peering over.

Patisserie Destroyer is crawling up the Eiffel Tower, Sabine solely in his arms.

A gasp escapes Ladybug’s mouth, and her hand instinctively reaches for her yo-yo.

“Ah ah,” the akuma tuts, holding Sabine slightly away from himself. “Careful, now.”

“Let me go, Tom!”

At first, Ladybug thinks she might have heard Maman wrong. The name doesn’t register, but the terror scrawled across her mother’s expression does.

“Papa?” she whispers softly, shock coursing through her.

If Chat had heard her, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Where’s Marinette?”

The akuma grins wickedly, and Ladybug suddenly feels sick to her stomach. That thing is not her father. “Why don’t you tell me, Chat Noir?”

Chat growls in annoyance from Ladybug’s left, though she barely hears it.

Today is just not her day.

The rest of the battle goes by in a blur; Ladybug can barely bring herself to assist Chat in the cadence of the fight. Everything feels dull and slow, and she only registers cleansing the akuma moments after it happens. She looks down at the chocolate eclair in her hand and throws it into the air, mumbling a half-hearted “Miraculous Ladybug.”

The telltale ladybugs of victory swarm around the city, repairing all damage done during the fight. Papa is seated on the floor of the Eiffel Tower’s highest viewpoint when she looks at him, Sabine hugging the life out of him. She hears her civilian name in their line of intense conversation with Chat Noir, but the nausea she feels is overwhelming, and all she can really focus on is her need to get out of here.

Without any warning, she flies away from the scene via yo-yo. The trip to her balcony feels short as she drops onto it and detransforms. Tikki says nothing as Marinette crawls through the hatch and curls up in her mountain of blankets. It’s not long before she finds the world fading into darkness.

*** * ***

“Marinette, you have to get up.”

Marinette groans and rolls over, ignoring Tikki’s jabs at her side.

“Don’t you want to talk to your parents about what happened? They were worried sick about you yesterday! They almost called the police before they thought to look up here. What you did was really rash and irresponsible, and now you have to deal with the consequences,” Tikki lectures, attempting to pull the blankets away from her Chosen’s body.

The bluenette doesn’t say anything in response, choosing instead to sit up with a grand sigh and force herself to move.

“That’s the spirit!” Tikki cheers, following Marinette around the room as she gets ready for school.

Marinette moves about groggily, feeling slightly nauseous as yesterday’s events run on a loop in her mind. She couldn’t even bring herself to assist Chat Noir in taking down the akuma once she had found out it was her very own father. As Ladybug, she can’t let that kind of thing happen. If Hawk Moth sees a weakness of some sort, he’ll exploit it, and Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t afford to have anything about them revealed to their enemy.

She stops in front of the bathroom mirror, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath in through her nose. She holds it for a moment before slowly exhaling through her mouth.

Tikki rests on Marinette’s shoulder, her smile slightly sad. “That’s right. It’s okay. Akumatization is not uncommon in Paris, so your father being a victim after one of his recipes were stolen from a neighboring boulangerie isn’t all that surprising.”

Marinette’s eyes widen in horror and anger. “Someone stole a recipe?”

Tikki nods, nuzzling Marinette’s jaw. “After the attack, they returned it because they felt bad, and your parents are actually going to have dinner with the boulangerie owners tonight.”

At this new bout of information, Marinette relaxes, allowing a small smile to curl her lips.

By the time she’s down the stairs and grabbing something quick for breakfast, she’s doomed to be a couple of minutes late for homeroom—thought that’s not uncommon with her.

“Marinette,” Sabine greets, turning from the dishes in the sink and wiping her hands on her apron, “it’s good to see you up.”

Marinette envelops her in a bear hug, guilty at having not made the effort to stay awake to see them and for stressing them out by being hard to find. “Are you okay?” she asks, pulling away from Maman and scratching the back of her neck nervously. “I saw what happened on the news.”

Sabine waves her off. “Fine, dear, but Chat Noir was worried sick about you.”

Marinette cocks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Sabine nods. “Oh, yes, dear. He showed up at our front door to check on all of us once he heard that you were safe at home. Even wanted to come in and see you and was disappointed when I told him you were asleep.” She chuckles conspiratorially into her fist, grey eyes gleaming in the morning light.

Marinette’s mouth is open, but no words come out. She finds herself struggling to respond before she glances at the clock and jumps. “Uh—I’ve got to go. Bye, Maman!” She hurriedly plants a kiss on Sabine’s cheek, grabs an apple from a small bowl of fruit, and books it out of there.

The bell rings as she’s running across the crosswalk separating the campus and the boulangerie. Marinette curses under her breath and races up the steps, her mood significantly better than it was when she had first woken up.

 _Today’s going to be a good day,_ she tells herself as she descends upon the door knob to her homeroom classroom.  _I can feel it._

*** * ***

Today is a bad day. A horribly, terribly, catastrophically bad day.

On top of being late for homeroom, Marinette had tripped over Chloé’s foot and torn her school bag on Adrien and Nino’s desk, left the folder containing all of her schoolwork at home on her desk, neglected to actually eat her breakfast (which has resulted in her extremely sour mood), and is now late for PE.

Marinette had lost track of time during lunch at home, choosing to try and find her homework binder (which has mysteriously vanished), and it’s been a couple of minutes since the bell has rung for the period after lunch to start.

She barrels into the locker room door, adamant to change as fast as possible in hopes of entering the class when everyone is still talking.

Marinette holds her breath as she reaches the door leading into the gym, screws her eyes shut, and pushes it open.

Silence.

Dread settles over her, and she slowly allows herself to crack her eyes open.

The class is staring at her, as is Monsieur D’Argencourt.

“Marinette,” he addresses her grandly, his tone sour, “so nice of you to join us.”

Marinette’s mouth goes dry as she glances between her fellow classmates and her instructor. “S-sorry, Monsieur,” she stammers, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

“It’s not like she really needs to be here, anyways,” Alya chimes helpfully. “She’s the best int he class by far.”

Monsieur D’Argencourt turns on Marinette. “You really think that?”

Marinette opens her mouth to argue, but Monsieur silences her with his hand. “I need a volunteer.”

No one moves.

Monsieur D’Argencourt frowns. “Fine, then. Ah… Adrien, why don’t you step forward, please?”

Adrien looks like a deer caught in headlights as he does what he’s told and steps forward from the congregation of classmates. Monsieur D’Argencourt motions him forward, and Adrien ends up standing straight across from Marinette.

“Fighting stances,” Monsieur demands, stepping away from the two. The class takes a step back as well, and Marinette and Adrien stare at one another in disbelief before looking back at the instructor.

“What?” they echo simultaneously.

Monsieur D’Argencourt nods and motions for them to step onto one of the larger mats. “Fighting stances.”

Marinette looks back at Adrien, and without thinking, she blurts, “I don’t want to beat him up.”

A majority of her classmates burst out laughing, and Marinette slaps a hand over her mouth.

_Whoops._

She’s not sure if Adrien looks more offended or delighted at her statement, and Marinette begins to wonder if he does have a background in fighting after all.

“Fighting stances,” Monsieur repeats for the third time, and this time, both Adrien and Marinette comply. “Ready…” Marinette rocks forward onto the balls of her feet, prepared to get this over with. “…Free!”

Adrien stands in place as Marinette lunges at him, an approach that surprises her. She goes for his left side, but he parries her blow easily before jabbing at her side. Surprised, Marinette takes it before attacking once more with a kick. Adrien catches her foot mid-air, and he peers around her foot and grins.

A defensive growl escapes Marinette’s mouth, and she hitches her other leg onto his side and twists with all of her might. Adrien releases a small yelp before hitting the mat, but he’s on his feet again faster than Marinette can blink and is coming at her with a direct blow to the neck.

The two go back and forth for what feels like hours, their movements quick, concise, efficient, and never slowing in speed or velocity.

Marinette knows for a fact that even a trained fighter would have a really hard time keeping up with her; she’s Ladybug, for God’s sake! The real question is: who the hell is the guy she’s fighting?

Having gotten lost in her thoughts, Marinette doesn’t dodge Adrien’s swipe at her legs, and she finds herself being pinned to the ground across the chest. Adrien’s muscled arm presses into her collarbone, his face inches from hers, and his breathing as heavy as hers is.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks breathlessly, his nose grazing hers.

“Let’s call it a hobby.”

A grin stretches his lips, and he shakes his head. “Not possible. Who are you?”

The question feels much deeper than it might have otherwise appeared to someone else, and the two stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like minutes.

Marinette knees him in the stomach and flips him, mirroring his pinning position without leaving him any kicking room. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Free,” Monsieur D’Argencourt commands, and Marinette pushes off of Adrien, her breathing relatively normal now. She can feel his gaze burning holes through the back of her neck, but she doesn’t face him. Her heart is beating erratically; she knows his fighting style. She has it memorized, which is the only reason she was able to take him down.

_He’s a close-combat fighter who follows the jab-punch-punch-kick-slide sequence. He doesn’t like to go for the face, so he’ll substitute it for the neck. He’s defensive until the offensive feels comfortable, then he’ll attack with an array of offensive blows._

Marinette’s breath leaves her in one fell swoop, and she suddenly feels very lightheaded. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been predicting his every attack and blow because she knows them.

“Uh, Monsieur?” she asks, interrupting something he had been saying to the rest of the class. “I—I need to use the bathroom.” She doesn’t wait for his response, instead jetting towards the exit and pushing the doors open of her own accord.

Of one thing, she’s sure: Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir.

*** * ***

Adrien feels as if he’s been tossed into some alternate universe where absolutely nothing makes sense, and he’s a complete idiot.

Or maybe that’s always been the case.

He stares after Marinette as she speeds out of the room, and he’s almost positive that she’s reached some sort of conclusion similar to his own.

Adrien’s body moves without his consent as he follows after her, his ears deaf to the calls from Monsieur D’Argencourt. He hasn’t even pieced the thought together, but he’s somehow registered it in the back of his mind and heart.

Every shard, moment, and memory fall into place slowly, and the numbness depletes as the blood begins to roar in his ears. Adrien’s heart jumps in his chest, and he nearly chokes.

_I’m in love with Marinette._

He’s been in love with her this whole time. Subconsciously, he’s always known the truth; it explains his strong attraction to her and the need to be physically close to her and earn her approval and attention.

“Marinette!” Her name leaves his lips in a desperate plea that has his skin burning in embarrassment.

She stops at the end of the hall and turns slowly. Her skin brushes against the sunlight, the few freckles dusting the tip of her nose starkly standing out. Her eyes are strikingly blue, and when they land on Adrien, a scarlet blush rises to her porcelain cheeks. Wisps of loose midnight hair curl at her hairline and stir in the gentle breeze.

Adrien feels like he’s just been shot through the heart.

He wheezes as if he’s been punched in the gut before staggering forward. Marinette stands unmoving, only able to stare. Adrien’s eyes are drawn to her exposed shoulders—thanks to her tank-top—, and he swallows heavily.

“Adrien,” Marinette murmurs, breaking their eye contact. “What’s up?”

Something in Adrien shatters, and he can vaguely feel his right eye begin to twitch. Does she not know? “Err—nothing. I just SPOTTED you, a-and I don’t want to BUG you, but I was hoping we could talk.” Adrien bites down on his tongue to stop himself from making it worse.

Undeniable recognition gleams in Marinette’s cerulean eyes.

_Okay, so she does know… Are we going to talk about it or…?_

He really wants to talk about it.

“Talk about what?” Marinette asks slowly, her expression carefully schooled.

Adrien almost scoffs out loud—if anyone knows how to school their expression, it’s him.

“Well,” he purrs, his Chat Noir confidence bursting at the seams as he leans down towards her face, “we have science next period, and I was hoping to get some review in.”

Marinette cocks a sly eyebrow, the hints of a smile tugging at her lips. “And you want to review with me because…?”

Adrien smirks, his nose brushing hers. “Because we have so much chemistry.”

Marinette bursts out laughing and shoves him away by the nose. “Ah ah, Chaton. We both know I‘m more of a Bio girl myself.” She winks at him, and Adrien’s heart soars.

“Marinette,” Adrien starts innocently, plastering a puzzled look on his face, “why did you just call me Chaton?”

Marinette’s smile falters, and another blush rises to her cheeks. She crosses her arms and mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that, Princess?” Adrien queries, the falsetto innocence in his voice causing Marinette to scowl at him.

“I said:  _stupid cat_ ,” she enunciates proudly, turning away from him with a huff.

Adrien holds his chest dramatically. “Fine, I’ll own up to being the astoundingly good-looking hero, Chat Noir. What does the lady think?” He flexes for emphasis, winking at the bluenette.

Marinette hums and taps her chin. “The lady thinks that Chat Noir is a complete dork.”

“My Lady!” Adrien gasps. “Surely you don’t mean that!”

“Your Lady? Me?” Marinette asks innocently. “I think you have the wrong girl, _Chat Noir.”_

Adrien leans in close, his eyes inches from hers as he gently steadies her at the lower back with one hand, and at the shoulder with another. Marinette’s eyes widen tremendously, and her lips part as her breath catches.

Adrien wants to shout in delight, but he instead focuses on slowing his rapid heart rate and pushing forward.

“I think I know My Lady when I see her,” he murmurs gently, his gaze catching hers as he tilts his head down towards her face.

Her eyes are on his lips for a short while before they finally trace up his face and reach his eyes. Her breath is sweet against his lips, and his knees quiver slightly.

“I would like to argue that point.” And just like that, she’s out of his arms and giggling as she sashays away from him, eyes glimmering in amusement.

Adrien’s mouth falls open, and his heart aches wonderfully.

_It’s her. Oh, God, it’s her. Ohhhh my God, calm down, Agreste. You’re only irrevocably in love her. It’s fine, you’re fine. You are fantastic. Breathe._

Adrien inhales deeply before following after her.

_I can live with being her friend for now._

*** * ***

** One Month Later **

“Ladybug, Ladybug! What’s your relationship status with Chat Noir?”

“Is it true that Paris’ superduo is in love?”

“How long have your rendezvous been going on?”

Chat scoffs, waving his hand about nonchalantly. “I would hardly call them rendezvous.” He grins cheekily and waggles his eyebrows at the flat look Ladybug sends him.

The crowd of reporters only grows louder and louder as they all throw questions at the duo, desperately trying to be heard over their competition.

“Now you’ve done it,” Ladybug mutters at Chat’s shoulder. He can’t help but snicker and bump her hip with his. He reaches for her hand and twines their fingers together behind their backs—out of sight from the reporters.

“You love the attention,” he responds smugly, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I think you’ve got us mixed up,” she quips playfully before turning back to the crowd and motioning for them to be silent. They comply reluctantly, and Ladybug speaks. “I understand you all have questions and concerns about Paris and everybody’s safety with possible interest between Chat Noir and myself. Let me assure you now: our relations with one another will not stop us from protecting the citizens of Paris. We care about our city and everybody inhabiting it, and we will not neglect our duties to see that you are all safe.”

“But are you and Chat Noir dating?” a bold female reporter queries, a recording device clutched between her tan fingers.

Ladybug hesitates, and Chat Noir squeezes her hand. Her eyes fall on him for a moment, and she smiles before facing the crowd once more and answering decisively, “Yes.”

A barrage of overlapping questions attack Ladybug and Chat Noir, and he watches her in admiration as she slips her hand from his grip, holds both of them up, and states, “No more questions will be presently taken.” And with that, she turns and yo-yos away.

The mob of onlookers and reporters alike turn to Chat Noir, and he grins cockily, shrugging. “You heard the lady.” He winks and gives a two-fingered salute before taking off after his girlfriend, his grin still very much intact.

He finds her reclining in the lounge chair on her balcony, already detransformed. Tikki is perched on Marinette’s exposed torso where Marinette’s pajama shirt has ridden up (gulp), nibbling on a cookie. Chat lands with a small thump, looks around, and releases his own transformation.

Marinette sits up and scoots over in her chair, allowing enough room for Adrien to lay down. He does so, wrapping his arms around her, so she’s more on top of him than next to him. Her hair tickles his neck, and he twines his fingers together over the patch of skin just above her navel.

She shivers despite the warm atmosphere the setting sun is providing, and her skin burns against his. He snuggles into her neck and breathes her in, her hair smelling strongly of vanilla.

She giggles tiredly, squirming against him and making him chuckle. “Adrien,” she whines softly, turning over so that her chest is now pressing into his.

He welcomes the extra warmth and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

Though he’s told her at least a thousand times since they’ve started dating, she blushes, the rosy glow making her even prettier—if that’s possible. Adrien’s heart thrums in his chest as Marinette lays on the knuckles of her hand and stares up at him, cerulean-blue eyes a bright contrast to the pinks and oranges coloring the skyline.

“What?” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on the skin of her back. He rubs smooth, slow circles with his thumb, and she sighs happily and cranes her neck so that her cheek is on his chest.

“I love you.”

Adrien jumps.

Marinette startles and moves away from him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Fireworks go off in Adrien’s chest, and he has the sudden need to shout in amazement. His stomach swoops as if he’s going down a steep drop on a roller coaster, and his heart is beating so hard, it feels as if it might burst.

Marinette looks like she’s committed murder as she stutters, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I meant say to—to say—”

Adrien lets his grin split his cheeks as he leans forwards and bumps her nose with his. His gaze drops to her lips before reaching her surprised eyes again.

“I love you, too.”

They both move at the same time, crashing into one another. Their teeth knock because they can’t stop grinning and giggling at one another, their lips only meeting occasionally.

“I love you.” Adrien kisses her nose. “I love you.” He kisses her cheek. “I love you.” He kisses her other cheek. “I love you.” He kisses her mouth, and she tastes like strawberries (must be her lip gloss). The kiss is long and sweet—savory, if you will, and Adrien relishes in moments like these.

_How long should I wait to propose?_

**Author's Note:**

> That’s a wrap! Man, I loved writing this. Such a fun story line.
> 
> Xoxo, J.


End file.
